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Feeding the Beast
Office The office room is cramped, with a desk covered with papers taking up most of the space on one side. A desk lamp flickers in the dimly-lit space, casting shadows along the walls. Some photos of landscapes and cities on Sivad and Ungstir hang in frames on a wall, while holoscreens with security camera displays are set in another. A swivel chair is parked by the desk, and a beat-up chair sits in an unoccupied corner. Darya is seated at her desk, the Zangali guards just outside the door. She does not seem to have any work going on just now - rather she's settled back in the chair that's a bit too large for her, waiting. Razorback's usual silent antagonism is noticeably absent as he enters the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. "Doctorrr," he says quietly in greeting, leaning his head forward in a slight bow. Darya returns the nod, toying a bit with a pen in her hand. "Razorback," she responds in kind, and waits. "You sstrrrike me as a perrrsson who does not enjoy mindlessss pleasantrrries," the Demarian says, still standing just inside the doorway, his black-furred face dispassionately gazing at the Ungstiri woman, "Sso I hope you will not mind if I get sstrrraight to the point." "It would be refreshing, da," Darya replies. "Am interested in what brings vi to see ya." "I cannot kill Rrrillitan Rrryoletti," Razorback states, his body motionless but for the silent swaying of his tail. The diminutive woman's eyes narrow. "Vi were very clear before vi were given a ship," she says in a voice rather too calm. "That vi were most interested in making the Timonae very very dead." "I was," the Demarian replies, neither tone nor demeanor altering in the slightest, "But conditions I was not awarrre of at the time prrrevent me frrrom completing thiss tassk." Darya does not seem at all mollified. "These conditions are?" she asks. "Ya ask merely for completeness' sake. Ya am not aware of Rillitan leading any armies." Razorback shakes his head at this. "The conditions arrre of a perrrssonal naturrre which I will not disscussss with you," he says, "But therrre the matterrr rrresstss. Captain Vadim does not ssharrre my rrreluctansce, but in trrruth, I much doubt that he will be able to brrring down Rrryoletti without my assssisstansce unlessss he aquirrres a farrr larrrgerrr crrrew." Darya shrugs. "Ya gave him six months," she says. "If he will take it." "I will prrrevent him," the Cliffwalker replies flatly, "As will otherrrs." Darya raises both eyebrows. "Not if vi do not leave this casino alive," she says. "It seems that ya will have to see to that." Razorback nods briefly. "That is, of courrrsse, yourrr perrrogative," he says, without any change in his tone, "But I am thrrrisce dead alrrready and the prrrosspect of going thrrrough that again rrratherrr borrres me. Due to thiss, I musst needs at leasst make it as exspenssive an underrrtaking as possssible. As I am ssurrre you do not have an unlimited amount of ssecurrrity perrrssonnel, thiss may cause ssome harrrdsship if anyone werrre to take it into theirrr heads to come herrre and avenge me. So perrrhapss therrre is ssome otherrr way in which you could hope to rrresolve thiss." "Ya want Rillitan dead," Darya replies. "If vi wish to stand in way of that, then ya will see vi dead also." From her tone, this is simple mathematics. "What arrangement can vi offer?" "I will leave that up to you," the Demarian replies. "Of courrrsse," he continues, his ears laying back slightly, "I could kill you herrre and now. The guarrrds outsside may be able to prrrevent my esscape, but that would sstill leave you verrry dead." "Ya would not find that particularly worrying," Darya replies. "They are well paid. Vi would be very dead. And..." She whistles, calling the Zangali inside. "Vi were kind enough to warn ya." Razorback's ears flatten tightly against his skull, nearly disappearing in his mane. His jaws stretch in an ear-splitting roar as his hindpaws push off against the floor beneath him, propelling him in a leap towards the doctor with his paws outstretched on either side, his fangs reaching for the woman's throat. Darya is far too slow to dodge that attack...but seems remarkably unperturbed at the sharp fangs pricking her flesh. "Close," she almost purrs, as her guards form a solid wall of Zangali over the only exit. "Vi will never leave here alive, but is warrior's death, da? Is not what vi want, to die again, see if it takes?" Razorback glares up at the Zangali from the floor which the two now rest on, holding Darya's throat gingerly between his fangs as he considers the situation. He places a heavy paw firmly on Darya's chest to try and keep her immobile while he lifts his jaws away from her. There are only the faintest traces of blood left behind but he stays in position, ready to rip out the woman's larynx if he needs to. "Do I have a choisce besides ending yourrr life?" he asks quietly, his eyes remaining on the Zangali, his tail twitching in agitation. "Vi are adamant about protecting the Timonae?" asks Darya coolly, apparently oblivious to the pinpricks on her throat, and unconcerned about the paw on her chest. "Yess," the Demarian replies, his silver gaze still fixed on the guards. "But vi do not *wish* to," the little doctor muses. "Vi would prefer it if he were dead." "Yess," comes the honest and simple truth, but the Demarian doesn't move a hair. Darya smiles. "Then solution is simple," she says. "Stay here. Gladiator fights. Vi cannot fight him, but cannot be expected to defend him either. Out of vi hands." The immense felinoid is silent for a moment as he considers this. "That is not good enough," Razorback replies quietly, "I want clemenscy sshown the Vadim and the otherrrs if they cannot complete theirrr tassk. Therrre arrre many otherrrs who would defend Rrrillitan." Darya raises both eyebrows. "If they need assistance, better weapons, it can be done," she says. "Not acsceptable," the Demarian replies, lowering his head again. Darya narrows her eyes. "The threats, they are dull," she says. "Vi want Rillitan dead as much as ya. Vi attack, vi die. Is no win situation in that event. Vi breathe, vi can do business." The ex-noble pauses. "Give the assignment of Rrrillitan to anotherrr sship, continue yourrr arrrrrrangement with Vadim, and we will have an accorrrd," he says. Darya considers this. "A hundred thousand credit bounty," Darya muses. "Any ship that wants it." It is a very long pause before Razorback replies. "Done," he says finally. His paw lifts off of the woman's chest as he moves liquidly to his feet, eyeing the Zangali defiantly. Darya raises a hand to forestall the lizards attacking. "Show him to a room," she says. "He will stay, and fight in the games, so he is not breaking any promises." She slants a look at the Demarian. "Can arrange for cell, da, if vi truly feel it is required. For now is being built." Razorback looks to Darya for a moment before he says. "Therrre will be those who will attempt to come forrr me," he says simply. Darya smiles. "There can be cells then," she says. On the following day ... Sundered Forum Ready Room A dark chamber that still stinks of blood, sweat and death - even after months of disuse. The plasma lanterns hang on the walls, imbued with shadow. A pentagon of benches sits around a darkened medical aid station. Lockers for equipment are toppled next to a shattered planning board, where competitors could plan out team sports plays. A rusted sign next to the scorched remnants of an old cell reads: PLEASE DO NOT SPEAK TO THE GUARDS. Darya is quite overshadowed by her silent Zangali guards, the pair of whom loom over her like scaled tree trunks. She picks over the ruined room, eyeing the layout. "It will do, da," she says. "Will want to hose it down - sick gladiators will not fight well." Razorback moves in behind the Zangali, flanked by a pair of guards from the Twin Moons who do not seem to trust his naked word not to flee. His nose wrinkles in disgust as he looks about him, his ears folding back slightly as he scans the room in silence. Darya slants a look at the Demarian, a little smile on her lips. "This, ya want to rebuild," she says. "Marc has ideas of lighter fun, but here..." she points down the tunnel. "The killing field...as if the the rest of Tomin Kora is not." Razorback's jaw shifts slightly and he nods, still keeping silent, his tail swishing gently behind him. There's a quiet hiss from one of the Zangali gaurds at that lashing tail. Darya, however, ignores it. "Will set guards here," she says. "Vi may call it vi quarters; will see about some cleaning. Do not wish vi to die of infection, after all. So many more interesting things to die of." "Indeed," comes the one word reply as the Demarian moves forward again, ignoring the Zangali as he scans the place with eye, nose, and ear. Darya looks over at her guards, some of whom station themselves at the two exits to the room. "Become comfortable," she says. "It will do for now. Ya will send cleaning supplies; vi may make this place as palatial as vi wish." Razorback snorts quietly, looking at the guards as amusement crosses his muzzle. "It is indeed larrrgerrr than the lasst ssuch plasce I occupied," he says, turning his gaze about again. "Ya will see that vi have company soon enough," she says. "If vi wish, guards will escort vi to casino." Her tone is a touch sardonic. "Vi are, after all, guest of honor." Razorback turns an icy, regal glare on Darya now, his lips curling back from his fangs in a snarl. "I will rrremain," he replies in a chilled tone. "Of course," Darya replies, smiling now. "Ya will send message to begin the taking." Darya waves a hand at the guards. "They are in contact with casino," she says. "If vi need, they will call." She tilts her head. "Mmm. Vi need...an outlet." She turns to the guards. "Tell them ya want three adults on the killing field. They do not leave without taking his," and she nods at Razorback, "head." She turns back to Razorback. "Common street trash, vi will not have trouble with. Ya wish vi claws sharpened on someone else's neck." Razorback wheels back towards the woman, his brow furrowed tightly. "They arrre not fighterrrs," he growls, "Jusst people who need a plasce to live." "And they will kill vi without a moment's thought or regret if they can," Darya replies with a little smile. Razorback growls quietly, then suddenly his head shifts downward, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. The growl strangles off as the immense felinoid sinks into a crouch, his head still bent against his chest. Suddenly it snaps upwards again, his silver eyes glazed over. His nose twitches a few times as he regards the group before him, then his head goes back, his jaws spreading to release a bone-rattling roar. The guards respond by moving to get between Razorback and their employer, who looks out between their bodies with interest at the cat. "Very good," she murmurs, pleased. Then, to the guards, "Let him have anyone who was not fool enough to leave when told. There should be enough rockrats in this maze to play with." But one fingernail taps thoughtfully at her cheek as she studies the Demarian. "Da...ya have *many* games for *vi* to play." Razorback seems to be completely ignoring Darya as the least threat to him. His eyes light on the nearest guard and his legs unfold with a sudden spring, propelling him towards the man, his jaws outstretched towards his head. The Zangali in question hisses as he ducks - just barely - and answers with a stun gun in his hands, aiming and firing. The speed of Razor's leap carries him ahead of the Zangali's aim and he lands on the floor, his claws biting against the surface to bring him to a halt on all fours. He stops near one of the others and one of his paws snaps out towards the back of the man's leg. Claws skitter clacking over Zangali scales, not quite breaking through. The guard's hiss is louder now, nearer a snarl, as he takes aim with the stun gun again. Razorback's body shudders violently at the discharge and his legs and arms slide out from underneath him. The Predator drops unceremoniously to the ground at the Zangali's feet. Darya nudges the unconscious cat with a booted toe. "Hm," she says. "Venator." She looks up at the guards. "This one, we do not feed. Ya want live animals brought in. He can hunt." She pauses, thinking about it. "....Pretty animals." Some 36 hours later ... Razorback is sitting down on one of the benches near the first aid station, regarding the worn and gouged wood surface with an empty gaze. The guards that were left behind seem to have taken up residence as far from him as is possible. Two more step into the room - the big Zangali that Darya evidently prefers for personal protection. She looks over the room with somewhat studious attention before turning said attention on the Demarian. She steps to one side...one of the Zangali is leading a pressure hose. "This room, it needs to be cleaned, da?" she offers pleasantly. Razorback's eyes turn upwards to Darya, his ears shifting backwards a bit. His silence is almost sullen as he sits, staring at her balefully. "Best vi move," the little Ungstiri advises, gesturing to the guard. "Vi would not want to get hosed." Indeed, the moment she's out of the line of fire, that hose comes on. Grime and blood and dust are steadily power-washed from the walls. Darya, however, and the other guards watch Razorback. "Vi are such an ...interesting being," she notes, pleased. Razorback eyes the hose for a moment, debating whether defiance is worth getting wet. It isn't, and he moves liquidly to his feet and moves further into the room. "I am sso glad that you arrre intrrrigued," he rumbles sarcastically padding to another part of the room, his footpaws making almost no sound despite his heavy boots. Darya smiles. "Da," she says. "Vi are not a typical...anything. Ya appreciate rarity." Apparently unconcerned as to the grime, the diminutive woman hops up onto a grimy table to sit down as her guard steadily continues his pragmatic cleansing. "Vi are such a ...hunter. But vi mind gets in the way." The Demarian's head snaps towards Darya, his eyes narrowed somewhat. "That was _not_ who I am," he growls out, his hackles rising slightly. Darya smiles. "Then who vi are not had a *very* good time without vi," she says, amused. "Vi can not even admit that vi enjoyed it...pitting vi strength and skill against the guards, against the *prey*. Vi are most intriguing, da." Razorback closes his eyes, his massive body going tense. The Demarian drops to his knees, pulling his lower jaw tight against his chest as his immense head bows as if in pain. The felinoid's breath goes short for a moment, but the moment passes and he looks up at the woman with an angry snarl on his lips, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Vi enjoy the hunt," Darya repeats quietly, watching with interest. "To track down vi prey. To rip out its life. It is a pure, clean desire, da? It is the primal heart of the species - yours and mine." She nods. "Ya will see to it that vi are given...worthy prey." The Demarian slowly gets back to his feet, doing his best to regain his dignity. "I hunt _game_, doctorrr," he replies quietly. "Forrr food, and forrr no otherrr reason." "So ya was mistaken, then, at the satisfaction vi showed, when vi fangs were here," and she gestures toward her own throat. She still seems more amused than anything else. "Ya was mistaken at the release in vi, to attack the guard. Of course. Vi wish to deny vi nature." Razorback snorts quietly, now turning away from the woman. "I am denying nothing," he replies steadily, "I do not deny that therrre is ssomething not rrright going on, but it is not who I am." "Of course not," Darya replies lightly. "Vi are as sweet as a little kitten." Razorback growls slightly at this, still turned away from Darya, his body seems incredibly tense, despite all of his attempts to remain calm. The powerwashing Zangali's almost finished a whole wall now. Darya looks to the other, and nods. The guard steps out, and the remaining two fill the space. Razorback's head turns towards the changing configuration of the guards, his eyes narrowing somewhat further in suspicion as he finally looks back over at Darya. Darya looks cheerfully innocent - a warning sign in itself. "There was a fool who tried to steal from ya casino today," she says, apropos of nothing. "Have told him he can stay and fight, or kill you and go free." She waves a hand at the guards. "If vi kill him...vi may have whatever vi wish to dine on. Else, vi have what he is having. This denial, it does not suit vi. Ya will not encourage it." Razorback stands silent for a few moments, eyeing the woman balefully. "I will not allow you to turrrn me into yourrr own prrrivate monssterrr," he growls quietly. Darya shrugs. "Of course not," she says. "Vi are noble, and have obligations. Nevertheless," and she nods as a rather roughed-up man gets shoved into the room, "he will take vi head if he can, and vi will sleep sometime." The new prisoner seems somewhere between cocky and terrified - the latter taking a bit more hold as he understnds just who his opponent is. "N-no fair, he's got claws!" Razorback turns to regard the man, snorting in mild disgust. He remains silent at the man's protests, just staring at him. Darya shrugs, and takes a battle-knife from a boot, tossing it over. "Now vi have claw," she says coolly. "Ya do not appreciate thieves. Vi have been told deal. Survive, thrive, or die. Vi choice." Razorback glances down at the knife for a moment, then back at the thief, his eyes daring him to approach. This seems to have something of a strengthening effect on the man. Taking the knife, holding it firmly, he does indeed approach - knife snaking out to cut. The Demarian hesitates, a moment which he does not get back as the knife slices through the flesh of his abdomen. The cut is not deep, but the Demarian's eyes roll back a bit and he drops to his knees with a growl, his ears flattening against his head. Darya shakes her head. "Vi are on a planet of animals," she remarks conversationally. "Predator and prey, prey and predator...vi are a better hunter than this." The thief, however, is much emboldened by the fact that he scored first blood on a Demarian. He holds the knife up, displaying its reddened edge, and grins before striking out again. The pain has made the Demarian a bit more wary as he moves liquidly out of reach. His snarl returns as he continues to fight his other enemy, ignoring the blood that stains his shirt. He still makes no offensive move against the thief. "Thiss does not need to happen," he says quietly to him. Darya looks at her nails. The powerwashing Zangali is on his second wall now. "Da," she says to the thief. "Vi can be pet, fight every night. Vi gang can see how glorious and awesome are vi skills...or lack." Well, however bold, the thief apparently doesn't think he's quite All That. Swallowing, he tries again, a somewhat uncontrolled slash. The Demarian's speed finally tells on the smaller man and the mass of black fur simply is no where near the knifeblade aimed for it. His legs push him off in a leap that takes him several yards away from the man. Somewhere in the motion, however, the Demarian stumbles, landing in on his forepaws and knees, his head down. His ears are folded tightly against his head, his tail bristling and stiff. Darya smiles, a light gesture to her guards dropping all their hands to their stun pistols. "There vi are," she says softly, approving and pleased. The thief turns to *stare* at her for a moment - and then, realizing at last how badly he's been set up and how deep the shit he's in happens to be, he rushes at Razorback wildly, hoping to gut the cat before he dies. The felinoid's head snaps up towards the charging human, his jaws stretching in a roar as he shifts gently to the side, the knife passing harmlessly through thin air. Getting his feet under him, the great cat's paw flicks out at the man's knee, trying to take it from under him. Darya watches with amusement as the thief goes down witha scream, legs swept out from under him and clawed to immobility. The knife skitters out of reach - and, terrified now, the man's half-sobbing as he frantically tries to grab for it. The little Ungstiri simply watches, somewhere between amused and bored, and does nothing. With a triumphant roar, the feral Demarian, leaps forward towards its 'prey', its jaws stretching out to reach for the man's face as the predator attempts to close of his breathing passages. Which results in a choked cry and some frantic - then feeble - struggles, and the thief's body goes limp. Darya gestures one of her guards to cover her, as she moves for the door. "If he does not eat it, see that he is fed," she says to the guards. The Demarian's jaws come away bloody as he turns his gaze towards the guards, hovering protectively over the kill. After a few sniffs, he decides that they aren't interested and he falls into the task of dismembering and devouring, periodically glancing back up to make sure no one is coming after him for a share. Category:Twin Moons logs Category:Classic OtherSpace Logs